


The Music I Heard Down the Street

by thatonedudewiththename



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Engineer Mark, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Musician Joel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7458037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatonedudewiththename/pseuds/thatonedudewiththename
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trip to Sweden was all Mark needed to turn his life around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Music I Heard Down the Street

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a lot longer, but I fell out of inspiration for it, so I tacked on the best ending I could to get it out of my drafts

Intense electric guitar was playing in the distance; Mark could hear it as he stood on the corner of the street, waiting for the light to change so he could cross. He couldn't really see who or what was happening as it still sounded too far away, but he was very curious, and if it was a street performer, he wanted to watch them play.

As he crossed the street, he thought about how much he liked watching people play the guitar—not just the music, how the guitarist's hands and fingers dance over the strings, the concentration and serene look on their faces... In all honesty, it was very mesmerizing, and Mark was excited to see it.

Coincidentally, the street performer was playing outside of the building Mark needed to go inside for his meeting, and as he got closer, working his way to the front of the small crowd, he got to see the performer's face; pale skin, pale blue eyes, long, light brown hair that hung in clumps past his shoulders, with heavy stubble the same colour—he was wearing a dark, tattered hoodie and scarf, black jeans with holes in the knees and beat-up Vans, giving him an all-around air of being a mysterious vagabond, and Mark found himself drawn irrevocably to him. Lips slightly parted, he stood and stared, watching the performer shred on his worn electric guitar, not seeming to notice the small gathering of people that were surrounding him on the sidewalk (about two dozen). However, Mark noticed that, in spite of the size of the crowd, there was only about 126 krona (roughly 15 USD) in the performer's guitar case—pretty pitiful, considering how good he was.

The song was over and the people clapped, leaving shortly after but only two dropping some money into the case. Mark walked up to him with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, taking out his wallet and dropping double of what was in the case next to the rest of the money. The guitarist paused in removing his guitar from around his shoulders to look from the money, to Mark, and then back again, before finally settling on Mark, the expression he was giving him making Mark's stomach twist. "Ganska generöst av dig." The brunet told him.

Mark's Swedish wasn't great, but he was pretty sure what had been said was "That's generous of you", or something along those lines. He nodded with a smile and replied, "Jo, jag.... uh, gillade musiken?" Or, "Well, I.... uh, liked your music?" He made the strumming motion with his hand.

Laughing lightly, the musician said, "Tack! Jag'm Joel." And held out his hand to shake. Roughly translated, that meant, "Thank you! I'm Joel, by the way."

Mark shook the hand and introduced himself in return, "Mark. Nöje att träffa dig!" Or, "Mark. Pleasure to meet you!"

When Joel took his hand back, he asked, "So, what's a rich fuckin' guy like you doing in Borlänge?" 

Upon hearing English be spoken—albeit with a Swedish accent—Mark inaudibly sighed with relief and answered as he scratched the back of his neck, "The company I work for sent me here to consult on a project one of our branches is working on." 

"That sounded like a bunch'a bullshit to me." 

Mark laughed. "Yeah, sorry, company policy. I'm an engineer and I have a meeting here." He pointed towards the glass doors of the office building they were standing in front of.

Joel nodded. " _Engineer,_ huh? No wonder you're loaded."

"Do I really give off that kind of vibe?"

"It's probably just me, since I'm not exactly the most well-off person you'll meet."

"Oh."

There was a moment of Joel just staring at Mark thoughtfully, Mark shifting his weight and feeling a little bit uncomfortable under his gaze, until Joel said, "If you coloured your hair you wouldn't look as business-y."

"If I coloured my hair, I'd be out of a job." Mark told him in rebuttal.

Joel waved a hand. "Whatever. But, since you gave me so much money, you're allowed to request a song."

After a second of thought, Mark told him, "I don't know any songs, or at least, I can't think of any."

With a shrug, Joel said, "How 'bout this; next time I see ya, if you think of a song you want me to play, I'll play it. Alright?"

Mark shrugged and smiled a little. "Sounds kosher to me."

With a little nod, Joel scooped up his money, pocketed it, then put his guitar in the case and locked it, picking it up and strapping it to his back. "See you around, Mark."

"W–wait!" Mark cried out, hand up to stop Joel; he seemed surprised at his own voice, like he hadn't expected to actually speak. Regardless, Joel stopped walking all the same and turned around with a brow raised, though not out of any ill will—more out of curiosity and inquiry than anything. "Yeah?" He asked.

Shifting his weight, Mark asked while wringing his wrists, "Do you wanna... have some coffee?"

"Don't you got a meeting? Wouldn't want you to miss that." 

"Not for another..." Mark checked the watch on his wrist and gave a single nod. "...half hour."

Adjusting the strap across his chest, Joel shrugged and waved a hand, motioning down the street. "Lead the way, Americano."

Chuckling, Mark fell in line with Joel, and together they strode down the street, making for the nearest coffee shop.

 

They found it on the next block over, having the chance to talk about Mark and his life before Sweden; his college experience (as he'd just graduated a few month prior), his quick promotion at work, the fact that this consulting job was his first big project as well as his first time in Europe. "You've been out of America before?" Joel asked as they sat down at a table after ordering their drinks.

"Uh, yeah," Mark unbuttoned his suit jacket and then took it off, draping it over the back of his chair. He glanced at Joel. "Visited family in Korea."

Joel smirked a little. "Oh, you're _Korean._ Y'know, I have a thing for Asians." He said, leaning back in his chair.

Mark raised his brows a moment and huffed out a laugh; he undid his cufflinks and rolled his sleeves up—sometimes, suits could be stifling. "Yeah, well, you're not the first person I've heard that from, unsurprisingly." He told him.

The chair that Joel was sitting in scraped across the floor when he sat up and rested his forearms on the table, narrowing the space between them and causing Mark to shift a bit in his seat and flicker his eyes from Joel's arms to his face. "Don't worry Mark, you're not some fuckin', ‘rare, fragile, exotic beauty’ in my eyes." Joel said.

Frowning, Mark replied, "Thanks?"

Joel gave a nod and shot a finger gun at him. Just then, a barista called their names for their drinks, Mark tearing his gaze from Joel and standing so he could grab the cups of coffee as well as the straws; when he sat back down and slid Joel his coffee, he asked, "So, what about you, huh? Why're you a street performer?"

"Because I love it," Joel answered, mixing in the whipped cream with his piping hot black coffee. "And it's the only thing that makes me happy anymore. Making music."

Mark inwardly cringed. "Oh." 

An airy laugh from Joel. "Yeah, sorry. Didn't mean to be such a fuckin' Debbie Downer."

"No, don't apologize. I asked." 

"So it should be _you_ apologizing."

Stirring his French roast with vanilla creamer and a shot of espresso, Mark nodded and lifted the corner of his mouth. "I suppose so."

Joel scratched under his fingerless gloves, sipping on his coffee that was now a dark brown—he seemed introspective, lost in his own thoughts. Mark had a feeling that he was a lot deeper than his rugged, torn exterior at first led him to believe. Taking a small sip of his coffee to wet his whistle, Mark cleared his throat before saying, "How old are you, by the way?"

"Mm." Joel set his cup down. "I'm twenty."

"Not even old enough to drink, at least in America anyway." Mark eyed him up and down. _"Twenty?_ I thought you were a lot older."

"You sayin' I fuckin' look old, asshole?" 

Mark laughed and held up a hand. "No, I just thought that you were like my age."

"Well, how old are you?" 

"I'm twenty-five."

Joel made an indignant noise behind closed lips. _"You're_ the old one..."

Again, Mark laughed, though much louder and with Joel laughing with him—it was a higher-pitched sound that Mark really liked. He looked at Joel and smiled brightly. "I'm glad I decided to ask you out, Joel. This's been nice."

"Y'know, me too, Americano. I like you; at least, more than anything else in this fuckin' shithole of a city." Joel confessed, motioning with his cup out the window they were sitting by.

For some strange reason, Mark was happy hearing that, though why he found it strange he couldn't seem to place. Necking the rest of his coffee (regrettably, as it was still really hot), he checked his watch and sighed in relief, rolling down his sleeves and buttoning the cufflinks again. "Still got like... twelve minutes left. Wanna walk with me to my meeting?" He offered.

A nod from Joel, as well as a small smile. "Sure."

"Well, let's get shakin'."

 

Apparently, Joel didn't want the rest of his coffee, as he dumped it at the first trash can they saw out on the street as they walked. With his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground, Mark asked, tossing a quick glance up to Joel, "Did you grow up in Borlänge?"

"Nope," Joel answered and shook his head. "I grew up in the country, or what qualifies as ‘country’ here in Sweden."

"Oh yeah? Me too. Small town in Ohio, lots of woods in our backyard. My mom still lives in the house where me and my brother grew up." Mark told him.

"And your dad?"

Mark twisted up his mouth and scratched the back of his head. "He's uh, he... died, a few years ago. Lung cancer."

Joel stopped in his tracks and held up a hand, pale blue eyes wide and long hair falling in his face. "Oh fuck dude, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up—"

"It's alright," Mark chuckled, it being more air than anything. "I can talk about it, not like it happened yesterday or something."

"Still..." 

Mark patted his arm and then kept walking, hearing him follow after him with quick steps to catch up. They were silent for a time, before Joel inquired, "You got a brother, huh? What's his name?"

Mark bounced a bit in his stride. "Thomas! He's the uh, author of a webcomic called TwoKinds." He answered.

"That sounds like the name of a porno that has fuckin' fursuits or some shit."

They both laughed, Mark slapping a hand to his chest and leaning back a little. "You're right, it does! I gotta tell Thomas that next time I talk to him!"

"Be sure to credit me, I won't have my genius plagiarized."

"I will, don't worry." 

By now, they'd arrived at the building Mark's meeting was in, both of them stopped outside the glass doors, just standing there in front of each other; Mark still had his hands in his pockets, and Joel was holding onto the guitar strap around his chest. Neither did anything for what felt like hours, or at least, it did to Mark. God, he had the strongest urge to just ditch the meeting and shoot the shit with this Joel guy, but he knew that if he did that he'd be out of a job forever, so he said, "Well, I really enjoyed myself today, Joel. Thanks for... well, everything."

Joel, adjusting the strap and shifting his weight, replied, "Me too. We should do this again sometime."

"Yeah," Mark took out a pen. "I'd like that."

With his pen, he wrote on the back of a business card his hotel, the room number, and his phone number, beaming and holding it out to Joel. "In case you ever wanna... see me again, or talk or whatever."

"Neat." Joel smiled as he took it, staring at it a moment before slipping it into his pocket. "You should get to your meeting."

"Right!" Mark bounced on his heels. "Right. Uhm, see ya around?"

"Tills nästa gång, Mark." Or, in English, "Until next time, Mark."

And with that, Mark turned and disappeared into the building.

*

As expected, the meeting was incredibly boring and the people even more so, but Mark answered all the questions asked of him and gave suggestions for the building project, sharing his ideas and inquiring about certain aspects of it. Everyone was nice enough, thankfully, and by the time it was over Mark was confident enough in the project to write a report in an email to his boss about it before he left the building. 

When he made it outside, it was noon and his stomach was growling; although he'd like to eat out and explore the city, he wasn't made of money, so he walked back to his hotel and made himself something simple while he worked on a drawing. It was a design for a building that he'd started in his spare time a couple weeks ago and that had gotten a little out of hand in terms of realistically being built within a manageable budget, but he liked it too much to stop. His salad and garlic bread was slowly eaten over the course of about an hour or so as he drew, and by the time he'd finished eating, the bread was hard and stale, the sky outside his French doors a watercolor of pinks, oranges, purples, and blues.

Taking a glance over the sketch, Mark decided that he'd worked enough on it for the day and rolled the large paper back up and slid it into its container, afterwards putting his dishes in the small sink—it'd be nice to have a dishwasher (he hated washing dishes), but since he would only be staying in Sweden for two and a half weeks (just long enough to finalize the design and get the building going), the higher-ups had decided on a room with just the basics, just fancier-looking. Which, hey, Mark wasn't complaining, the room was nice as hell, but... dishes. Staring into his sink, he decided to invest in some paper plates and bowls. 

On the nightstand by the bed, the phone rang, the shrill noise causing Mark to jump and let out a yelp of surprise; he wasn't expecting any phone call, so who...   
Crossing the room, he took up the receiver and said, "Hello?"

 _"Is this Mark Fischbach's room?"_ Asked the person on the other end.

"Uhm..." Mark furrowed his brows. "Yeah?"

 _"Hello, it's the concierge desk. We have a..."_ They began, the person then saying in a muffled voice, _"What's your name again? Joel?"_ When they spoke again, their voice was no longer muffled. _"Yes, we have a Joel here who claims that he knows you. Do you want us to go ahead and send him up?"_

Mark's stomach did flips upon hearing that, slowly nodding before he remembered that he was on the phone and saying aloud, "Yeah! Of course! Send him right up– please."

Before anything more could be said, he hung up and ran to the sink to wash his dishes; some motivator, right? Once they were done, he picked up the few clothes he had lying around and stuffed them into one of his suitcases, checking himself in the bathroom mirror and brushing his teeth just as there was a knock on the door. He spit into the sink and wiped his mouth before quickly making his way to the door and opening it.

Sure enough, standing on the other side smelling of cigarette smoke, coffee, and sharp body wash, was Joel, guitarless and dressed in only his ripped jeans and a pull-over hoodie. His brown hair wasn't as clumped as it'd been that morning, and for some reason that gave Mark the notion to run his fingers through it. He ignored that impulse and smiled, feeling his whole face brighten seeing Joel stand there in front of him. "Hey!! Didn't expect to see you again! At least, not twice in one day." He greeted.

Joel gave a small smile and allowed his hair to fall into his face. "Well, I was bored and thinking of you, so I decided to stop by." He told him, that knowledge setting Mark on edge.

"Yeah?"

A nod, Joel then asking as he took a gander over Mark's shoulders into the room, "Gonna let me in, or am I doomed to stand out here all fuckin' night?"

"Oh!" Mark smacked his palm against his head and stepped aside so that Joel could enter. "Duh."

After Joel had strode inside, Mark closed and locked the door purely out of habit, though Joel didn't seem to mind, seemingly too absorbed in how freakin' nice the hotel room was, his eyes roaming over every inch of the place before he mumbled, "Some nice fucking digs you got here, Mark." 

Shrugging and scratching the back of his neck, Mark replied, "Thank God I didn't have to pay for any of it, I'd be broke as hell."

Joel nodded while walking over to the bed and sitting down, Mark following only because it would feel awkward if he was the only person standing; before he sat, though, he asked, "Want a drink? I've got a hell of a selection in the mini bar."

Joel turned up his mouth and hmm'd—Mark saying with a bit of a laugh, "Don't think too hard on it, you might pull something."

"Bite me." Joel retorted.

"Hey, if that's what you're into."

Both laughed, though Joel was rolling his eyes. "Get us a beer or something, you ass." He told him.

"Coming right up." Mark replied; he then turned around and shuffled to the mini bar, searching around until he found two bottles of some kind of beer with a Swedish label. As he walked back, he said, "I can't drink a lot because of my inability to process alcohol, but since it's a special occasion, I can deal with it."

Joel scoffed as he took his bottle. "What _‘special occasion’?"_

"You being here, obviously."

Joel narrowed his eyes and turned his whole body on the bed so that he was facing Mark, Mark pivoting to do the same. "And... how is that special?" He asked.

A shrug, Mark replying, "Why wouldn't it be? I mean... I like you, and I'm glad you're here." He took a drink of his beer. "Seems occasion enough to me."

Apparently, Joel couldn't argue with that, smiling a little wider and drinking more of his beer. Mark watched his powdery blue eyes roam over his chest and legs, Joel's eyebrows furrowing and him making a questioning noise as he was still drinking. When he'd pulled the bottle away from his mouth, he asked, "Do you always wear your fancy dress clothes outside of work? Seems a little extreme to me."

Mark laughed and shook his head. "No, I was just... a little too preoccupied with something to change. This is kinda stifling though." Was his response. He stood up and gave his beer to Joel to hold, then began to unbutton his white dress shirt while facing away from him, starting by rolling down his sleeves so that the shirt could slip somewhat dramatically off of him; underneath, he had on nothing, as he found undershirts unnecessary, though he was wearing underwear—boxer briefs, to be exact—as the removal of his dress pants came to reveal. It didn't really bother him much to know that Joel could see him changing, and, consequently, everything, being that they were both grown men and definitely capable of seeing one another in their underwear (even if it was just him)—besides, Mark wasn't naked for very long and was soon sporting one of his T-shirts. "That feels a lot better." He commented while sitting back down on the bed and picking up his bottle again.

"You look a lot more comfortable to be honest." Joel said, then, after a moment, went on, "Do you... always get naked in front of people you don't know?"

Mark laughed and shook his head. "I figure we're both adults who can handle being in the same room with someone who's changing; that, and I'm a little inebriated."

Maybe it was his imagination, but he could've sworn he saw Joel turn a little pink right before he said, "Hey, I'm not complaining... with how you look, I'd be showing myself off, too."

Now it was his turn to be pink; he bumped Joel with his shoulder and chewed on his lip. "Shut up, you're just saying that to seduce me."

"Who said anything about seducing? Don't flatter yourself."

"Yeah, whatever!"

Mark bumped him again, but this time, Joel did it back, both of them pushing against the other until it was almost a strongman's contest. They both kept trying to drink while shoving, but clearly that didn't work out as they were both laughing too hard and moving too much to keep anything in their mouths. Eventually, Mark came out on top and pushed Joel hard enough to knock them both over onto the bed, kind of sticky and sweating and still laughing, though it was more airy than anything. "I'm fucking hot as hell." Joel said.

"Take off your hoodie, then." Mark told him. "Problem solved."

"I don't have anything on under this, though." 

Mark propped himself up on his elbow so that he could better see Joel. "I'll give you one of my shirts if it makes you feel better."

Sitting up, Joel nodded and murmured "Okay", then pulled his hoodie up over his head and let it fall to the floor. Mark couldn't help but stare, his eyes grazing over Joel's pale and chubby body and feeling the blood rise in his cheeks to turn them red—it would figure that Joel had the body type Mark liked the most. So lost in his thoughts, he hadn't realized  that he was staring until Joel nudged him and said, "Hey! Did you blow a fuse or something?"

Mark jumped and flashed a grin before he spun off the bed to grab a shirt. "Sorry! I was... just thinking of something from work." He lied, digging through the closest suitcase.

"Well, don't! This is a work-free zone."

Mark huffed out a laugh and came out of the bag victorious, shirt in hand. He gave it to Joel and watched him put it on, kind of regretting giving it to him, but only just. "What about your jeans? You can't tell me those are comfortable." He said.

"Why are you trying to get me naked so bad, man?" Joel complained, but regardless, slipped his jeans off, anyway, Mark's eyes hungrily consuming the newly revealed skin much like a dying man in the desert would when spotting an oasis amongst the miles of sand. He chalked up his sudden lust to him having not cleaned the pipes in a while and tried not to think about it, instead saying, "See? Now we're twinsies."

Laughing, Joel shook his head and told him, "You're an idiot."

"No, YOU are."

"I'm not fuckin' ten years old, Mark, I refuse to play this game."

"Aww, you're no fun." 

Joel stood up and stretched. "Want another beer?"

"Nah, get something a little harder."

"I'll try, but the hardest thing I know is my dick."

Mark pushed him with his foot and laughed. "Shut up, you dumbass."

Joel stumbled a bit to the mini bar and crouched down to see what was inside, Mark hearing the little glass bottles clink against each other as Joel dug around in it, searching for something, he guessed. After a minute or so, he emerged with two handfuls of the little bottles of alcohol and dumped one in Mark's lap. "There, now you got a selection." He said, sitting beside him in the middle of the bed.

Mark decided to drink whatever his hand landed on first, and apparently Joel had the same idea, as they both sort of raced to see who could drink the most in the shortest amount of time—Joel won, obviously, as Mark knew his limits and stopped after the vodka. "If I drink any more I'm gonna be really sick," He told Joel, who was swaying a little.

"Lightweight!" Joel slurred.

"No, allergic." Mark huffed.

Joel flapped a hand and fell back into the bed, Mark pushing the bottles out of the way so he could lay next to him; it was quiet for a while, just their even breathing and the sound of Mark's heart pounding in his chest, though why it was so loud and pumping so hard he couldn't discern. After a few minutes, Joel whispered, "Mark?"

Mark swallowed and inaudibly cleared his throat before responding, "Yeah?"

"Do you like guys?"

Furrowing his brows, Mark mumbled, "What d'you mean? Like, as friends?"

"I'm fuckin' asking if you're gay, you idiot."

"Oh." Mark was silent as he thought, his fingers tapping the bedsheets and heart beating faster for some reason. "I mean... I guess? If I liked the guy enough."

"So you're what, bisexual?"

"Probably." Mark turned his head to look at Joel, admiring his profile and the flush coating his cheeks. "What about you?"

"I'm pretty fuckin' gay, man." Joel raised his arms over his head and turned it to face Mark, his eyes not meeting his for some time as he spoke. "Never really told anyone that out loud before. It's kinda weird."

"I'm glad you told me."

"Why?"

"Shows that you trust me."

The corners of Joel's lips curled upwards into a small smile, Mark's own crooked one matching with his as they stared at each other; for a while, Mark thought that he could look into those pretty blues for the rest of his life. It was then that Joel's eyelids fluttered and then shut like he was falling asleep, and, as it turned out, he was, as Mark's own began to feel heavy, too. But God, maybe it was the alcohol or his sleepiness or the way the lighting was hitting him, a combination of the three or none of the above, but Joel looked so pretty and so kissable that Mark almost couldn't believe it—as though moving of its own volition, he sat up and climbed halfway onto Joel, his arms on either side of his head and one knee between his legs. It took a second for Joel to face him and open his eyes, and when he did, they went wide and his mouth fell open in shock. "Mark? What?" He muttered.

Mark's breathing was haggard and he couldn't feel his fingers or toes. "I– I really..." He tried to say, but couldn't seem to find the words. Digging his nails into the sheets beneath him, he captured Joel's lips in an unsure, almost innocent kiss that had Mark's brain going numb and a tingling sensation shooting down his spine. When he pulled away, Joel reached up and held onto him, one hand sliding into his hair, the other under his shirt to his lower back, a finger dipping beneath his waistband. 

They moved slow due to how tired they were, but the passion was still evident in the kiss and in the heat that radiated from their bodies like the sun; it was Mark who tore their shirts off, his desperation to see and feel Joel's soft and pale body embarrassing to the point where he was glad he was tipsy. His hands slid over Joel's stomach and sides, up his arms and across his chest, touching everywhere his lips weren't and pulling the most amazing but sort of feminine cries and gasps from him—God, he was loud and it was great, Mark hoping that he was just as unrestrained when he was sober because it riled him up to no end, even if he was still very sleepy. When Joel began to slide his hands over him, gripping his back and raking his nails on his skin, he groaned and bowed upwards, their straining boners grinding together inside their underwear. The contact was exhilarating and had both men gasping and panting, Joel's lethargy clearly keeping him from voicing his pleasure; Mark wasn't as worse off and moaned Joel's name as he frotted slowly against him, kissing his neck and lips and lacing their fingers together. After a few minutes, Joel cried out in a choking tone and began to violently twitch, his grip on Mark's hands squeezing and his back raising up off the bed—Mark took that as him orgasming and groaned deep in his chest at feeling the wetness of Joel's cum seep from his boxer briefs into his, as gross as it sounded in hindsight. Not too long after, he came, as well, his chest heaving and fingers twitching, head feeling kind of fuzzy. Before he could even roll off of Joel, he was asleep.

*

Weight shifting off of the bed next to him woke Mark some time later; when he opened his eyes and saw the sun still low in the sky behind the clouds, he figured it was probably still early in the day and sighed, that action turning into a yawn. Behind him, a voice asked, “Did I wake ya?”

Mark sat up and turned at the waist as he stretched, looking to the man standing next to the bed; it was Joel, paused in his action of taking off his crusted boxers. His hair was messier than usual and his pale skin was flushed on his cheeks,  shoulders, and hands—it had Mark diverting his eyes and gripping the bedsheets a little too hard.  “I–I uh, no, you didn't.” He replied.

Joel smiled and pushed his boxer briefs down the rest of the way to reveal his bare crotch and butt, which drew Mark’s eyes to those areas, with his face turning red at the sight. Quickly, he looked away and got up with a grunt of effort, grimacing at the dry cum in his boxers chafing his thighs and dick in a very uncomfortable way. He waddled somewhat penguin-like to the bathroom, only to be stopped by Joel with a hand gently poking his back. “Hey.” Joel said as he turned back around. 

“What?” Mark asked, Joel’s hand lingering on his back and sliding around to hold his hip. The action had him feeling a little uneasy for some reason.

“You're gonna shower, right?” 

“...Yeah, why?”

Joel shrugged as he murmured, “Jag trodde bara det'd vara lite snabbare om vi duschade tillsammans.” Or, in English, “I just thought it'd be faster if we showered together.”

However, since Mark's Swedish was only barely passable, he didn't really understand what Joel'd said and kind of screwed up his face quizzically. 

Joel sighed and shifted his weight, eyes darting around the room and one hand coming up to scratch at his growing beard. “I said, it'd be easier an’ probably a lot faster if we showered together.”

“Oh.” Mark turned up his mouth with his hands fisting at his sides and went a little stiff. “Well… I guess that's practical.”

A barely-there smile from Joel, and then Mark felt himself being taken by the hand and led into the bathroom by Joel (even though he was ahead of Joel in the first place), the both of them brushing their teeth—Joel just gargling toothpaste and water—before taking turns whizzing, and then finally stepping into the shower that was clearly not meant for two people. With Joel behind him and the spray of water in front of him, he wet his hair and began washing it, not long after feeling hands slowly and ever so softly caress his back as the scent of body wash drifted into his nostrils. The sensation had him faltering in his movements, but Joel’s even if slightly heavier breathing had him calming down from his thoughts of what the actions could possibly mean. He'd moved on to rinsing his hair, and Joel had somehow managed to pull Mark flush up against him while still lathering soap and water over his chest and stomach; the attentions of his hands drifted downward, but he still seemed only interested in washing him off—of course, that didn't stop Mark from getting aroused by his hands teasing so close to his dick, which went from limp to full mast within a matter of a minute or two. Mark chewed his bottom lip and tried to say something, but all he managed to get out was a breathy shudder due to Joel tracing his fingers and hands over his dick with the gentlest touch, stroking it and thumbing over the surface like he was admiring a fragile statue with his hands and trying not to break it. It was making Mark lightheaded and trembly, with his knees turning inward and hands reaching out to grab something, anything to help keep him from falling, but there was nothing except for Joel’s forearms against his stomach, so he gripped them tightly and managed to murmur in a shaking tone, “Th-this is… really…” 

“Hmm?” Joel whispered, one hand dipping down to cup Mark’s balls and roll them around.

By this point, Mark's eyes had fluttered shut and his lips were parted in a pant. “This is really not… safe, Joel…”

“Mm, maybe you're right, but…” Joel pressed his hard dick to Mark’s ass and finished, “I think we can make an exception, right?”

Pounding in his chest at the feeling of Joel’s dick against his butt prompted Mark to question, “Wh-what d’you–” 

At that moment, Joel twisted his hand and flicked his wrist on an upward stroke of Mark’s cock that caused him to writhe and squeeze Joel’s forearms, his jaw clenching and a shaky exhale escaping his nose. After a second or two, he went on, “Ahhh, what– what do you wanna do?”

 _“Vad vill du göra?”_ Joel asked. Or, in English, _”What do you want to do?_

God, Mark could barely stand, let alone think and translate, but fuck if he wasn't hornier than a teenage boy who'd just discovered his first porn website and more than willing to do anything Joel could come up with, even translate his kind of mumbled Swedish. He bit his bottom lip and thrusted his hips in little jerks into Joel’s hand and groaned at how good it felt mixed with the hot water. The sensation alone could've gotten him off in no time, but apparently Joel had other ideas, as he pulled his hands away, much to Mark’s disappointment; instead, he was led to switch places by Joel and pressed up against the shower wall, Joel taking a brief moment to kiss his lips and his neck before dropping down to his knees and sliding Mark’s dick fully into his mouth; the hot and wet sensation of Joel’s mouth had Mark grunting and gripping the back of Joel's wet hair, Joel himself bobbing his head and swirling his tongue along the underside of Mark's cock. To his own embarrassment, Mark rolled his hips into Joel with his back arching off of the tile wall and his mouth dropping open to release incoherent whispers and pleads; he was never usually this noisy, at least not sober, and to be entirely honest it was kind of turning him on… somewhat, which should've seemed a little narcissistic in retrospect, but he was way too horny to care in that moment, what with Joel grazing his teeth along his shaft and pressing the tip of his tongue to his head. A hitched breath shuddered out of Mark when he did, followed closely by Joel pulling away and standing up with his own dick in hand—at this point, Mark took a few seconds to compare their dicks: Joel’s was pink and red, thin, but average in length, probably around four or five inches; Mark’s was the same, but thicker, and was more brown and tan. The contrast of their skin tones and the colours of their dicks had Mark chewing his lip, his hands coming up to grip Joel’s upper arm and shoulder with his nails digging in. “Do you need to be anywhere today?” Joel asked, his voice more breath than anything.

To be honest, Mark couldn't remember. “I-I don't… uh…” He tried to answer as he shook his head. “I can't even think right now.” He laughed airly.

Joel giggled in the cute way he did and said, “Well, you should check. Dont needya losing your fuckin’ job just because I'm horny.” 

Smiling a little, Mark got out of the shower and grabbed a towel from the rack, beginning to dry himself off as he headed out to the room where his and Joel’s clothes were scattered all around the floor from last night. He took the time to pick them all up and fold them on the bed, pausing to admire Joel’s hoodie with fond eyes, and then move on to his phone, which was on the other side of the bed on the nightstand. As he was checking his schedule for the day, he heard the shower turn off, and then a minute later, Joel asking, “Busy?”

Hmm… he had a lunch at two, followed by a conference call with the contractor and city council people a couple hours later, but after that, he was pretty much free for the rest of the day. “Not until two, and then I'll be free around six maybe–”

He barely got to finish his sentence before two hands grabbed him and spun him around to face Joel, who kissed him hard and wrapped his arms around him, one hand burying itself in his hair, the other grabbing somewhat violently at his ass. He let out a muffled cry of surprise that quickly turned into a groan of pleasure when their fronts collided, hard dick against hard, sensitive dick; Joel pulled away from the kiss to whisper in what sounded like a desperate voice, _”Jag vill att du ska fan mig.”_ In English, that was, _”I want you to fuck me.”_

Now, Mark was pretty sure he knew what Joel had said, but he still stared wide-eyed at him and mumbled, “You… want _me_ to..?”

A nod, Joel suggesting, “Unless you want to bottom.”

Mark wasn't sure if that was a good idea, and it kind of wounded his pride a little, so he shook his head, the look in Joel’s eyes when he smiled his crooked smile enough to make the nervousness and insecurity he felt over the thought of having sex with him worth it. He took Joel by the shoulders and led him onto the bed, pressing their bare fronts together and groaning at the sound of Joel whimpering into his ear; he didn't know how Joel did it, but he somehow managed to get hotter each time they were close, his soft and chubby body feeling better and better against his own. “You're so hot, Joel.” He breathed into the ear below him.

“F-fuck off…” Joel mumbled, “Don't… don't fuckin’ dirty talk me.”

“Sorry,” Mark said as he kissed over Joel’s shoulder and neck, “I can't help it.”

He dragged his open mouth and tongue across the pale expanse of skin and down, following the dustings of light brown hair that coated the lower part of Joel's chest and led in a line to his happy trail and pubic hair, whereupon he pressed his lips to the insides of his thighs, feeling Joel shiver and hearing him swear in Swedish. He had a weird sense of pride when that happened and couldn't help but smirk inwardly—with that, he pulled Joel’s legs onto his shoulders and gave no warning before he took all of Joel into his mouth, Joel himself crying out, hands clawing at the sheets below him and back bowing upwards. “God! Mark, just… fuck me already!”

Well, that satisfied Mark’s curiosity from earlier about whether or not Joel was as loud sober as he was drunk; it would be yes, and it had Mark somehow even hornier, even though his dick was already rock hard, leaking precum, and throbbing heavily. He sucked Joel’s cock harder and more intently, gripping Joel by the ass and loving the way he whined and squeezed his head with his thighs. “Please, Mark, please I…” He moaned.

Honestly, Mark was growing impatient and didn't have to be told twice, so he set Joel back down and nearly growled, “Spread your legs and… put your knees up.”

Joel did so without hesitation, but Mark could tell by the redness of his face, chest, and shoulders that he was embarrassed to be in such an exposed position, and truth be told that it only made him even more attractive in Mark’s eyes. Purring low in his throat, he rubbed his hands up and down Joel’s thighs and kissed along his stomach up to his chest, grunting when his sensitive cock brushed the softness of the naval beneath him. He licked Joel’s lips before delving his tongue into his mouth with a heated moan, Joel exhaling deeply in what felt and sounded like a desperate way, and it turns out he was right as when they'd stopped getting drool all over each other’s mouths with their intense making out, Joel begged, “Fan mig redan!” Or, “Fuck me already!”

Mark nodded quickly, but before he could make a move to do anything, there was a knock at the door and a male voice saying “Housekeeping!”, followed a second after by his phone going off, his boss’s name lighting up the screen. 

“Fuck,” He grumbled.

“It's okay, Mark.” Joel said quietly as he stretched his legs out and sat up. 

Mark climbed off of Joel and the bed and took up his phone, hearing Joel get up, too, along with the rustling of blankets; he turned at the waist to see Joel covering himself with one of the sheets from the bed and heading toward the door, presumably to let the housekeeper in. Turning his attention back to his boss, he answered the call and said, “Fischbach.”

_“Mark, hey, I need you to send me the reports from your meeting with the Sweden branch yesterday.”_

“I thought I emailed you the report already.” Mark replied, his eyebrows knitting together.

_“If you did, I didn't get it. Send me the report, then submit the contractor's and council’s statements along with the project plans to Yalena. Before noon!”_

“Got it, before noon. Is that all, Ms. Highwater?”

_“Yes, that's all. How's Sweden, by the way?”_

“Uhh…” Mark stole a glance over to where Joel was chatting up the maid and giving him a business card—Joel looked at him out of the corner of his eyes and smiled a little. “It's… eventful. Very beautiful and the people are nice.”

_“Well, I'm glad to hear. Just don't stay there, you're my best engineer and I'd hate to lose you to Gödel.”_

“Heh, yes ma'am.”

_“I'll talk to you later, Mark.”_

“Ok, goodbye.”

 _Beep_ went his phone when he ended the call and dropped his arm back to his side while still holding it, lifting his head to see the maid leaving and Joel slipping his jeans on without any underwear underneath. “Gotta go?” He asked, pausing in his action of buckling his pants.

“No, but I do have to work.” Mark answered, walking about the foot of the bed to where his suitcase was and taking out a fresh outfit. 

They dressed in relative silence; the intensity that had been between them from their sexual encounter dissipating with the rising sun into the late morning. Joel probably had places to be, and Mark needed to resend the report he'd typed up after the meeting yesterday and get the statements from the clerk at the office and compile it with the project design, all before noon while still having time for lunch. He thought about this as he put on his boxer briefs and dress pants, tucking his dress shirt into the waistband and then buttoning it up, along with his pants, tightening his tie around his neck. “You look hot,” Joel commented from the other side of the room. Mark turned around to face him as he buttoned his cuffs, seeing Joel look him over and smiling his crooked smile. 

“Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself.” He said. 

Joel strode up to him in his worn hoodie and ripped jeans, reaching out to straighten his tie and collar. “Y’know,” He began, “The fact that you were wearing a suit was one of the reasons I agreed t’ go for coffee with you.”

 _“Really?”_ Mark laughed, holding out his arm so that Joel could put his jacket (though not his suit jacket, that was for later) on him.

Joel giggled and nodded. “Yeah, I-I uh, thought you looked really hot, especially with that scarf you were wearing.”

“Shut up,” Mark mumbled, though there was no hostility in his tone, as made evident by his small smirk and half-lidded eyes. “...Is that like a kink or something?”

Shrugging, Joel handed Mark his glasses before he stepped into his shoes and pulled them onto his feet. “Dunno. Probably.”

“Hmm,” Mark slid his socks on, and then stepped into his dress shoes. “Good to know.”

Joel lightly socked Mark in the arm and snorted, Mark sticking out his tongue in a teasing way while taking out his phone so that he could email the report to Ms. Highwater and request the files from the clerk. After he did that, he looked to Joel and asked, “D’ you have any place to be, or…” Chewing his lip, he finished, “Would you like to go out for breakfast with me?”

“Wouldn't it technically be brunch now?” Joel questioned.

“Whatever! Wanna go out to eat with me?”

Grinning, Joel said, “Thought you'd never ask.”

 

The restaurant that they decided to dine in was the kind that you'd think wasn't expensive, but after taking a glance around and seeing all the middle and upper class people in their suit and ties and pencil skirts, you'd come to realize that you made a huge mistake. Mark could see that expression of distress on Joel's face as they sat at their booth and were handed their menus. Chuckling low in his throat, Mark said, “It's ok, Joel, I'm buying."

“N-no, I know, but... the way I'm dressed, I kinda fuckin' stick out like a sore thumb, don'tcha think?" Joel mumbled.

Mark's laugh came from his chest and he smiled bright at him. “If you look good, it doesn't matter."

"You think I look good?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"That's true."

As they sat at their table and were given their menus, Joel asked, "Why'd you take me to such a nice restaurant?"

Mark drank some of his water and replied, "Because you're worth it." After a short pause, he continued, "And because I have to tell you something."

"What?" Joel drank his water.

"I..." Mark chewed his lip and watched Joel drink, looking him over a couple times and clearing his throat before saying, "I want to be your boyfriend."

Audibly, Joel choked and spluttered, clutching his chest with his eyes wide and focused on Mark. _"Vad?!"_

Fear twisted in Mark's chest, his hands beginning to tremble. "I really like you, and, since I know you like me too, I thought maybe we could... date, y'know?"

Seconds passed of Joel staring at Mark as though he'd grown another head, which was entirely possible from how stressed out he was. "Are you kidding me right now?" Joel asked with furrowed brows.

"Do you... not wanna?"

"Mark," Joel began to laugh, "I thought we already were."

"Really?"

"Yeah! What, you think I told you I loved you and wanted you to fuck me for shits 'n giggles?"

People from other tables were looking at them due to Joel being the loudest fucker on the planet, but neither Mark nor Joel seemed to care much, or at least Mark thought so. "I mean I guess not, I just thought—" He began.

Joel cut him off with, "Just thought we had to actually announce it to be official?"

"...Yeah,"

A laugh from Joel, which contagiously spread to Mark, the both of them laughing loudly at the hilarity of it all. "Don't worry Mark, we're dating, trust me." Joel told him.

Relief and joy spread throughout Mark's gut like he'd just drunk something hot on a very cold day— in all honesty, Joel was like that. Refreshing, comforting, inviting, and most of all, beautiful. At this exact moment, Mark knew that he only ever wanted to be with this one person for the rest of his life; he wanted to get to know him, to live him and experience his world. More than anything, he wanted to kiss him, so he leaned over the table and turned his head to kiss Joel eagerly, in return hearing Joel make a noise of surprise.

Damn was he glad that he'd decided to take the job offer in Sweden; who knew that there'd be such lovely people here?


End file.
